


Arithmancy

by clipper782



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Gen, Kink Meme, M/M, Not Serious, Professor Grindelwald, Prompt Fill, Re-Posted from the Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 07:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clipper782/pseuds/clipper782
Summary: A completely non-serious fill based on this prompt:"So, there are some subjects that are mentioned as being taught at Hogwarts, that don't have professors mentioned as teaching them. I'd like a fic where Grindelwald escaped Nurmengard years ago and headed to Hogwarts, either to be near his former friend or to take revenge. He disguised himself as the Arithmancy teacher, because no one pays much attention to him, and has been teaching there ever since.Dumbledore has no idea. However, during book 4, Grindelwald starts hearing rumors about Voldemort trying to come back, and doesn't want this to happen. He starts doing what he can to protect Harry, and, ends up showing up in the cemetery in time to stop Voldemort from returning. It's at this point, that Dumbledore begins to think that maybe his employee is a bit too powerful for just an arithmancy professor..."I may have veered off from what has been requested somewhere along the line. And this might not be the most serious thing in the world. But... Well... I don't really have a good excuse for posting this. There's a lot of vulgarity, but not so much in the way of sex.





	Arithmancy

**Author's Note:**

> Re-Posted from the Fantastic Beasts Kink Meme
> 
> (Yes I know the Arithmancy Professor is Septima Vector but that is the least of this fic's problems I assure you)
> 
> Pure Crack. Not Serious. Unless you want to take it seriously, in which case you should go ahead and do that.

"He's just like his father... Always up to no good."

He had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at that one. James Potter had been his favourite student once, when he'd first started teaching at Hogwarts school. Just like his father was not the first thing Dione would come up with to describe Harry Potter. Or the second thing. Or the third... But being a full-time Hogwarts professor there were precious few people to talk to over the age of eighteen, and he would rather not alienate one of them. Even if Severus Snape wasn't highest on his favourite fellow professor's list.

And yes, he did have a list.

"You know Severus, and I know this is going to sound crazy, but maybe he didn't do it."

"Nonsense."

Albus was at the top of course, and at the very bottom...

"Nobody knows how it happened. That's the great mystery isn't it?" Alastor's eye whizzed between the two of them suspiciously as he took a long drink from his flask.

A lot of the DADA hires had taken the list but this one might just beat out Lockhart for the worst of all time. Not because of anything he said or did really...

"Hey Moody, care to share?" Dione leaned back against the desk shooting the other professor a coy glance.

"Get your own then! I don't need any of your germs." He moved uncomfortably in his seat before rising up. "I've got classes to prepare for you should be doing the same."

At that Severus did roll his eyes. Dione wished he could join him but...

He had sat next to Alastor Moody for many meals and he had gotten that flask very close and he couldn't help noting that whatever was in there it didn't smell a whole lot like alcohol. Not to mention turning that kid into a ferret or showing off the unforgivable curses to a bunch of twelve year olds. Even he wasn't that stupid. Which left only one explanation.

Fucker was stealing his shtick

*

"Dione." Ah there was his favourite conversationalist. And he'd only just been getting his classroom set up for the holidays. He set his enchantments to keep working as they spoke.

"Headmaster! To what do I owe this... pleasure?" He hopped off of the raised platform from which he usually gave his lessons and sidled up as close as he could to the other man without triggering his instinctual response to move away.

It was pretty close. Albus took no notice. He didn't miss a beat.

"Its about your... lesson plans." 

Dione took on a sincere look of confusion. "I turn them in every Friday night. I'm... quite sure I did not forget?" He had been teaching at Hogwarts for 22 years and had not once forgotten to turn in his lesson plans. What kind of idiot would pass up such an excuse to see Albus? He was so very busy.

"Ah. Quite..." And he took the paper out of his pocket where it had gotten slightly crumpled. A bit more than slightly.

The top read Dione Chalworth--Arithmancy. Underneath that however. Well. How he hadn't noticed that was anyone's guess.

 _When the fourth task falls the death toll will rise_ was written in in place of Tuesday's lessons.

"Do you mind explaining this, Dione?"

"Huh. Well. There are no classes on Tuesday so..."

"Is this a prediction for the future?" Honestly how the hell was he supposed to know? He hadn't even remembered writing it. Maybe? Probably.

"Maybe?" 

Albus sighed. "Don't forget you have Hogsmeade duty tomorrow."

"Of course not. Will you... be attending as well?" He reached one hand over the headmaster's shoulders in a way that could plausibly be construed as "just friendly".

"No. Alastor will be accompanying you and the children."

Dione dropped his hand and while his powerful occlumency concealed the thoughts written in his mind it could not do the same for the ones written on his face.

"Now now, Professor Chalworth," Ouch. Chalworth. "Alastor Moody is a splendid auror--" he hated aurors, "--who has done more than most in the fight against Voldemort." Was he supposed to flinch here? He probably should shouldn't he. Ugh what a pain--

Wait. "Has done?"

"Yes. Has done. Past tense."

"No disrespect, headmaster," he tried to replace his hand on the other man's shoulder but it was shrugged off, "but that's... not past tense."

"...I did not come here for a grammar lesson, Professor Chalworth. Now excuse me." And with a flourish of his robes he turned and left.

What a jerk. Coming on in, being so cryptic and just... leaving him like that. All bothered and unsatisfied. Damn him he knew what he was doing.

*

Albus Dumbledore had no idea what he was doing. Nobody who knew what they were doing would possibly send a train full of children to an unsuspecting village with only Gellert fucking Grindelwald (he wasn't supposed to use that name any more, he reminded himself, not even in his inner monologue) and whoever-the-fuck-was-not-Alastor-Moody as their only supervision. He wouldn't be surprised if there was a train full of ferrets to round up at the end of the trip instead of children. This guy was even less sane than he was.

Fucker. Bet he never even spent thirty years alone in prison to earn that insanity either.

He needed a drink, and he found himself absently reaching for the other professor's flask. There was a very, very small probability it was actually anything alcoholic but, again, he needed a drink and it was either that or...

His hand was swatted away. "Get. Your. Own. Fucking. Drink." Not-Moody practically hissed at him. Bet he was a fucking Voldemort guy. Probably not the man himself though. Kid was absolute shit at transfiguration, probably didn't even know how to brew a polyjuice potion.

Well. Plan B then.

The children were all in a goddamn state about the tournament and as much as he tried to avoid it, both the ill-advised tournament, and the petty teenage squabbles, both of which had left James Potter's son once again the unwitting centre of attention. Hell, Hermione Granger had come to him in tears only a few nights previous claiming she 'didn't know what to do' and 'didn't know who to talk to'. And while yeah, the larger part of him wanted to just say "Why not, y'know. McGonnagal?" He'd let her do it.

He didn't like it. He liked Hermione Granger, if she was a little misguided. She'd tried to give him some spiel about house-elf liberation and yeah. He sure as shit didn't agree with anything she said, but it did make him feel... something at seeing such strong idealism in her.

"Look at Granger, talking to herself. Think she's finally lost it?" Said one student to another on a busy Hogsmeade street. Dione pointedly did not transfigure him into a small animal and instead followed Hermione into the Three Broomsticks. 

He honestly just wanted a drink. Maybe he'd talk to Hermione. Maybe. Didn't really matter but if she was there what was the harm?

"Void of Shambles." He asked the witch serving the drinks, noting that Alastor was already fucking there with Rubeus Hagrid of all people. He didn't even have duty that day. What an asshole.

The witch frowned, "Sorry we don't serve that here."

He scowled back at her. "Stonelock Draught?" Shake of the head. "Wrath of Poseidon?" She looked away. "13th Kno--"

"Listen sir. Magical law only permits certain substances in certain... establishments. Maybe try the Hog's Head?"

Damn. Wasn't his fault these practical literal children could only handle muggle grade alcohol. 

Alastor or Not-Alastor or whoever the fuck he was had moved to hover over Hermione like a fucking creep. seriously what was wrong with that--

"It can see through invisibility cloaks" He heard Not-Alastor say over the noise of the pub. 

What. The. Fuck.

That was Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, presumably, who else would be sitting with Hermione Granger? And wow that sounded pretty shitty. But that wasn't the point. Harry Potter's invisibility cloak was James Potter's invisibility cloak; was a _hallow_.

He was going to knock that little imposter down on his death eater ass. Just as soon as he got something stronger than muggle water to tide him over.

*

"A-and he! He stole my shtick." Dione hiccuped into his fourth glass of Stonelock Draught as the somewhat less than upstanding patrons of the Hog's Head glanced him over with something in between pity and disgust.

"Oh how terrible." Aberforth replied from behind the bar, looking for all the world like he could not give less of a fuck about his problems. "Must have been a pretty important stick..." he mumbled.

"No! Not stick! Shtick My thing! The thing I am doing! My thing!"

"What? Getting beyond wasted and neglecting your duties as a Hogwarts professor?"

"Yes! I mean, no! I mean... I guess I'm doing that too? Damn."

"So let me get this straight. My brother has entrusted half his entire student population to a neglectful drunk and a guy who uses kids for transfiguration practice, is probably also a drunk, and apparently steals sticks. Am I getting that right?"

"Shtick, Abbys. Shtick

"Right and that would be?"

Dione leaned in close, conspiratorially, after taking a large gulp of his draught. "He's not really Alastor Moody." He whispered, though half the bar could probably still hear him.

"Uh-huh. Okay. I'm going to go ahead and cut you off now. Please charm yourself back to some proper shape before you get back to my brother's school."

*

Dione Chalworth was multi-talented. He could wrangle up teenagers, while being stone-cold drunk and pretending not to be, while also acting friendly to that shtick stealing asshole he was stuck here with, while also, as he was slowly beginning to realize, almost giving up a twenty-two year con in five words or less.

At least he wouldn't have died sober.

*

He had put a lot of thought into his hangover outfit. It was just like his normal outfit, but with sunglasses. The kids thought it was pretty cool for the most part, but at breakfast Albus had leaned over to him and whispered that he liked it better when he could see his eyes and all of a sudden Dione had felt very much at home among the lovesick hormone-addled teenagers of the school.

"At the bar last night," He had replied evenly, "had a nice chat with your brother." Which was evidently the wrong thing to say because Albus didn't say anything else to him the whole meal. Whatever, wasn't his fault Albus was fighting with his stupid brother. Maybe it was a little. Or a lot. Or entirely. That wasn't really the point though.

So, he was unsure then, whether he should be in a good mood or a bad when, when he was walking past Alastor Moody's office and saw Harry Potter rushing out. Which wouldn't be strange except. Potter was never very studious. And it was Sunday. And it was nearly tournament time. And he had seemed... elated somehow.

Dione knocked on the door to the office, but being that Potter had left it askance the knocking just made it creak open. Moody was on his feet with his wand in his hand surrounded by useless trinkets. 

"So... talking to Potter were you?"

"What if I was?"

"Helping him with the tournament were you?"

"Somebody has to, don't you agree? Almost seems like Dumbledore doesn't even care his champions could die."

"Of course he cares!" Absently, his hand found the hilt of his wand. _When the fourth task falls_... "There's... three tasks right?"

"...Yes?"

"That's what I thought." Looking around the room he notice half Moody's trinkets were broken in some way. Of course they were. Wouldn't want them giving him away...

Wait. This guy stole his shtick right?

Dear lord he was certain to fuck this up somehow. He was way too out of practice. 

Trying to seem a lot calmer than he was, he softly closed the door, drew his wand and moved closer to Moody. Along to his side, not in a confrontational way. He eyed the foe glass meaningfully. Then Moody himself. Then, slowly, his seven-locked chest. Back to Moody.

"So..." He started, silky, smooth. Off to a good start. "How is the Dark Lord these days?"

"How DARE you--"

"Hush. I already know."

"Know what? What are you--"

"I'm no enemy." And with a quick alteration to his transfiguration charms he pulled up his sleeve, revealing a mark on his arm of a snake sliding through the open mouth of a skull.

"You! I should take you in now!"

"Oh just stop." He grabbed he flask from the flustered 'auror's' pocket, and turned away quickly. "What's going to happen to me if I drink this I wonder?"

"Don't--"

"Just tell me your name."

"Alastor Moody." He grabbed the flask back. Gellert let him.

"You know that isn't--"

"Get out of my office now."

Gellert frowned. But he wouldn't press the matter now. Better to let it be for a while. He'd planted the seeds in the other man's mind.

*

Shortly before dinner, he found himself summoned to the Headmaster's office. Albus looked very serious, which was not a good sign. In fact it was pretty near the top of his 'bad signs' list.

He had a bad signs list.

"Professor Chalworth." Damn. It had been Dione at breakfast. Was he mad about something that had happened with Aberforth or was it-- "Professor Moody has brought me some... disturbing allegations, to say the least..."

Mother Fucker.

He silently undid the charm that made the mark appear on his arm. "And what allegations would those be, sir?" Damn that was pretty hot. Sir. Damn. Not the time.

Albus took his arm and rolled up his sleeve which was of course completely unblemished. He did the same for the other and sighed. "Alastor is a dear friend of mine," Wait how dear did he mean? Dear friend? What the fuck? "But I do worry about him sometimes."

Worried about him? Why? What about him? "What about me?"

Albus looked at him quizzically. "What about you?"

"Do you... worry about me..." Dione murmured, regretting the words as he said them.

Albus seemed very confused at this point. "...Should I?" Dione watched his eyes fill with suspicion as he moved closer to him, staring very hard.

Then Dione kissed him. Hard. Then he left.

*

Dione didn't really want to go to the First Task. Who really wants to go watch a couple of kids get eaten by dragons anyway? _When the fourth task falls_... Yeah okay, so they probably wouldn't be eaten by dragons. Not yet anyway.

But it would probably look bad if he didn't go. Besides, somebody had to keep an eye on that traitorous bag of dicks calling himself Alastor Moody.

He caught up with him in one of the side hallways the morning before the first task.

"You traitorous bag of dicks!" He shot under his breath as he moved to walk alongside the other man. Smooth. What a calm and collected response. He was sure to get on Moody's good side now.

"Traitor? I'm not. A death eater. I don't know how you... concealed yourself from the headmaster but..." A group of students walked by chittering about dragons and whether Victor Krum was better looking than Cedric Diggory. "I'll see you around, Chalworth." He moved quickly away, seeming somewhat disturbed. Hey, maybe something was working after all.

Walking towards the arena for the First Task, Dione reminded himself not to root for Durmstrang. That would probably look bad. He wished Albus hadn't had to be stuck judging, whose idea had that been anyway, to have such partial judges? Really he just wanted the two of them to sit together. Maybe hold hands. Damn that wasn't right.

In the end, he had remembered not to root for Durmstrang, and no children had been eaten by dragons. Small mercy there. Though he did have to admit, Potter's move with the broomstick hadn't been unimpressive. He could see a bit more of a resemblance between Harry Potter and his father when he was up in the air. But James had been his favourite...

Everyone in the wizarding world knew Harry Potter as the kid who defeated the Dark Lord. Voldemort that was. Fucker. If there was one thing he hated it was people stealing his shtick But that really wasn't the point. This time. If Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort, his Death Eaters must hate him. And Not-Moody was a Death Eater, right?

He didn't actually have any proof of that, if he was honest with himself, which was not often. Hell even with perfect occlumency shields he still never referred to himself by his own name in his own head.

He needed proof. He needed to know Not-Moody's plan. And he needed. Well. He supposed if he ended up keeping James Potter's kid safe that'd be... an okay bonus. Sure. That's what it was.

*

He hadn't taken the transfiguration off in so long. So long. He didn't really look that great, but he could fix that, easy enough. He threw his cloak over his head, and another for good measure, and headed out onto the lake. 

The Durmstrang students had taken dinner with the Beauxbatons and Hogwarts students after the first task had ended. Most of them had already gone to sleep. Karkaroff was congratulating Krum outside of his own floating office. Krum was... a name he knew. Very well. He made sure the boy was well away before he approached Durmstrang's Headmaster.

He locked himself in his office as soon as he lowered his cloak. Typical Death Eater behaviour.

"You really aren't representing our school very well. My own precious Alma Mater," He called through the door. He hear Karkaroff's breath hitch. "But I'll forgive you on one condition."

"W-What condition... My Lord?" Damn. Nice. A little respect now and then. 

"Tell me everything you know about what Voldemort is planning."

"I-I don't know anything!"

"Wro-ng answer."

*

He'd had to obliviate Karkaroff in the end and the evening had turned into a complete waste of time. Vague nonsense about Voldemort possibly returning, maybe. He wanted to know what his plans were, not that he just might have one. Maybe. But he had to admit, it had been fun. He had to do that more often.

Hermione had come to him chattering on about House Elf Liberation and these two elves in particular--Doddy and Windy was it?--and how they were adjusting to freedom. Dione filed most of that information away under 'not quite important, but important to Hermione'. She reminded him of himself at that age and when he told her so she had beamed at him. If she had known what he was like at that age though... the effect would have most likely been... somewhat different.

Karkaroff had looked properly dazed for a recently obliviated wizard. He was a fucking disgrace. Dione wished he'd stop fucking hanging around Albus like they were... equals. Durmstrang needed a new headmaster this one was positively shameful. He supposed he could do it. He should do it. He should...

"Dione." Ah. It seemed Albus had gotten away from the Death Eater, and that they were back to first names. Ooh but maybe he could call him sir anyway?

"Yes, sir?" Albus seemed to flinch ever so slightly. Damn was that wrong. Dammit, dammit, dam--

"I need you to chaperone the Yule Ball."

Ah. "Not with Moody, I hope?"

"No, you two... Do not work well together."

That was an understatement.

"I will be acting as chaperone alongside you."

Wait. "You're going. With me. To the Yule Ball."

"Yes."

"We're going together?"

"Yes."

"Like together together?"

Albus was a very pretty shade of crimson that would have once matched his hair, "Yes."

"Yes!" He caught himself before throwing a fist triumphantly in the air, "I mean. That is. I am not displeased with these arrangements?"

Albus was smiling at him. Directly. At him. Which was nice. Very nice. He never thought he'd... miss that so much.

"Of course our primary duty will be as chaperones--"

"Yes! Of course! Obviously! Headmaster... Albus? I can call you Albus, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then it is a date!"

*

He almost forgot he had important things to be doing. Almost. Once he saw Not-Moody again looking suspicious as hell, eyeing Potter with some sort of hunger he strongly hoped was not lust, it came back to him.

All he really had was a failed interrogation of the man himself, some nearly useless facts from Karkaroff, who was never the most trustworthy guy in the first place, and his own knowledge and reasoning which were, unfortunately, completely unproven and mostly unfounded, at least to the untrained eye.

It would be a good time for a vision about now. Maybe something absently written on a lesson plan again? Or does that only work once?

He sure hoped filling that need for a drink was in infinite supply however.

*

Minerva McGonnagal was not the first person he expected to see at the Hog's Head, but mulling it over, he supposed she wasn't the last. Neither of them had Hogsmeade duty that weekend though, so that made both of them free agents, so to speak.

"I swear to God, Minerva, if he bought shit from our competitors I will--Oh. Its you." 

Dione sidled over to the bar. Minerva moved away as if suddenly preoccupied with something. "Shadow of Truth, if you will."

"Are you... sure about that?" Shadow of Truth was highly potent, and contained veritaserum. It was damn good. Actually...

"Make it two will you?" Actually it would be highly useful, if he could get it out of the bar without Aberforth noticing.

"You aren't getting it out of the bar without me noticing." 

Yeah. Sure. They'd see about that. "So... What were you talking about with _Minerva_?"

"Eh. Some kids' dance. She's pretty into it I guess."

"Did she ask you to go with her?"

"What? No. I don't even go there."

Dione sipped his drink. Soft like silk, thick like velvet, only slightly burning his lips as it passed by them, leaving the slightest hint of numbness on the tip of his tongue. "Y'know, its one thing to deal with this kind of obtuse relationship shit from the kids but you're like. Over a hundred years old so like. Just get your shit together, dude--"

A fist connected with his face and he didn't remember the rest of that night.

*

Fucking truth shit, he hadn't remembered to sneak the other drink out of the bar. Or been conscious for it at all.

Didn't that shit make it so you only had to tell the truth when asked? Maybe he just really couldn't keep his mouth shut. Speaking of, he had dropped the transfiguration to check the damage. He had two less teeth than the previous night. Pretty soon they'd all be gone.

"Professor Chalworth!" 

"Miss Granger." It wasn't that he wasn't pleased to see her, but he very clearly was wearing his hangover outfit and--

"Viktor Krum asked me to go to the Yule Ball with him and I said yes! Oh. Oh! Oh..." Her emotions were unreadable. Did she want to go with him? Was she regretting her decision? Was she perhaps just so overcome with excitement she couldn't speak. It was no matter, though. He could guide her through this. Calmly. Collected.

"You can't go to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum!" Or sure. He could say that.

"What? Why not?" A look of confusion and, yes, that would be anger, flitted across her face.

"Because... Because..." Because he liked Hermione. She was his favourite. Krum was the grandson of a muggle-sympathising-traitor-to-the-empire he had maybe, just ever-so-slightly tortured to death at Nurmengard. Just a smidge. Little bit. The guy was pretty dead. And Hermione would never, ever, ever side with him on that decision if she actually, like. Knew about it.

"Because he's too old for you! I mean, he's the Durmstrang champion, how do you know he isn't just using you? I mean, he's eighteen, you're like what? Twelve?"

"Fourteen." She was glaring at him. She looked pretty hurt. Kind of betrayed. It almost made him feel... bad? Was that it?

"Exactly! Way too young. For sure. Hold the phone. Stop the press. Don't do it."

"I... I can't believe this! I can't believe you!" Tears began to well up in her eyes but before Dione could start properly freaking out about that she turned on her heel and stormed away.

Well fuck. He probably could have handled that slightly better. Just a smidge.

*

"What did you say to Hermione?" Viktor Krum was in his office when he arrived. Joy. "She's really upset."

"I didn't mean to upset her." Its the truth at least.

"If you have a problem with me then you should talk to me about it."

"Well..."

"What is it? What's your problem? You think very lowly of me?"

This wasn't going to go well at all. "Listen. Viktor. Just... Are you unarmed?"

"Why would I be armed? You are a professor, yes?"

"Well your headmaster is a Death Eater so yeah, not the greatest frame of judgment there but sure."

Viktor looked mildly put off by this and started to say something but Dione cut him off.

"Can I talk to you for a minute here. Real talk. Man to man?"

"Uh. Sure?"

"Well... See... Your Grandfather was nothing but a ministry pencil pusher. Total dead-weight. So, in a way, isn't it better that he died so you can call him a hero rather than continuing to live that boring fruitless life he was looking at anyway? I mean come on, what's a better story to tell the kids? Grandfather dying a hero resisting the temptations of the Dark Lord even while under the worst conditions imaginable at Nurmengard prison? Or like, he wrote up some wand licenses and died in some stupid unrelated way. I mean, really, I kind of did you a favour here. For the Greater Good and all that, right?"

"What the actual fuck are you saying?" A cold rage radiated from the boy as he reached for his wand.

Dione quickly obliviated him. What the actual fuck had he been saying?

Viktor Krum shook his head, looking thoughtful, like he was trying to remember something important, but it soon passed. "Professor Chalworth? When did you get here?"

"Ah. Just now it was."

"Ah. What did you say to Hermione?"

"I... Haven't a clue what you are talking about. Please run along now."

Krum scowled at him, but did as he was told.

*

Chaperoning the Yule Ball turned out to be a whole lot more work than he was expecting. 

"Isn't this supposed to be a party? Shouldn't it be more fun?"

"Why Professor Chalworth, what is it about organizing event stations and finances that isn't fun?"

"Uh. Everything?" He tried to scowl but couldn't help smiling. He'd probably organize event stations and finances every day of his life, if it was with Albus. Hell he'd fight sharks and die every day if it was with Albus. Albus was... just swell.

"Merry Christmas, Dione." Albus said, pulling a small wrapped box from somewhere in his robes. Fuck. Major fuck. It was fucking Christmas Day. He'd heard of forgetting birthdays but this was absolutely ridiculous. 

"For me? Thanks..." He shoved the box into his own robes.

Albus frowned. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Later. Tonight. After the Ball. I... have something for you too." Maybe he could just say it was a blow-job or something. That would kind of be a cop out wouldn't it? Damn. 

"Then come up to my tower after this is all over. When you're ready that is."

"Of course! Would not miss it."

*

Shit what was he going to do.

*

He had spent all too much time rummaging around his quarters and his office for something halfway presentable and when he got back to the Great Hall he found he was pretty late. The Champions had had their dance, the kids were mingling, the adults were mingling harder, and the tension in the air was more than palpable.

He almost wished he hadn't come back.

Hermione Granger looked nice though. Like she was having a pretty good time. Maybe he shouldn't have been so selfishly hard on her.

With everyone busy and entangled in their own drama, he took to watching Not-Moody very closely.

The man made an offhand remark about Potter's underclothes. Strike two for him being some sort of pervert. At some point Aberforth showed up to argue with Albus about not supporting his business. The Weasley boy had it out with Hermione quite loudly, and only two of his students came over to ask him why he was skulking in the corner instead of dancing.

"I'm watching, children. Gathering information. Waiting for the perfect time to strike."

The two students had giggled slightly and left, unsure whether he was really joking.

Maybe with all this tension, it was the perfect time to strike.

*

Not-Moody was in his office after the Ball had ended, sipping from his hip flask. He'd been sipping on it all night. Obviously. The hallway here was deserted this far from the action, so, he pulled up his cloaks and fixed his transfiguration charms.

This would be fun.

"My Lord! What are you doing here at Hog-- Ah! Forgive my impudence! But the ritual? Has the ritual been complete? I thought you were waiting for Potter, I was going to bring you Potter! Ah! Forgive me please! Has there been a change in plans?"

"Boy you sure got talkative fast there." He pushed the Voldemort persona away, letting his Chalworth persona rise from underneath. Double transfiguration. "Don't you guys have like, a password or something?"

"You!"

"Yeah me."

"How did you...?"

"I believe its called transfiguration."

"But... there's only one person in the world who can do that sort of thing without the use of polyjuice..."

"Oh yeah! That's right! Don't steal my shtick. Oh and yeah. Obliviate."

"Uh. Chalworth. What are you doing in my office?"

*

He tapped his head with his wand, pulling out a long silvery memory and placing it in a vial. He repeated this process twice more. He placed a different label on each vial and placed them into a box.

A perfect present for Albus.

*

Albus had given him a locket that had once belonged to Kendra. It made him want to die. Just a little.

He didn't stay long. He handed him the box and he left.

 

*

"I haven't opened it yet. I wanted you to be there."

You idiot! He wanted to scream. You absolute idiot!

"Well I don't want to be there!" 

That may have been a bit less than mature. Obviously it was the influence of the children.

*

He had an actual honest-to-God vision not long after Christmas. It was not what he had been expecting to say the least.

But it was something he should probably bring to Albus.

"I've seen what you gave me." He said as soon as Dione walked in. "Its... disturbing."

"Oh yeah and which thing is that?"

"Everything."

"Yeah, well. It happens. Move on. Get over it. Bigger fish to fry, or whatever."

"You have to go back--"

"I am not going back!"

"Gellert--"

"Don't call me that!"

"What?"

He supposed he'd have to do this alone. Which, yeah, totally sucked, but what else was there to do?

"Obliviate!"

*

"Oh. Dione? What are you doing in my office?"

"Nothing much _sir_. Just admiring the view."

*

At least now he knew who Not-Alastor Moody was. Not that that mattered. The guy wasn't exactly the mastermind of his organization. Death Eaters were weeds. If he took down this one, another one would come in its place.

He'd have to wait.

So what if Albus wouldn't share his plans with him? So what if Albus wanted his plausible deniability? It wasn't as if he actually cared. He'd just have to outplay him, but it was hard. He didn't know where either of them stood and he'd forgotten how to play.

*

He'd gone back to Karkaroff with his cloaks up and his transfiguration down. He hadn't been quite right before but he was playing the game now. For real. For keeps.

"You never wanted to take his mark. You know I'd never blame you..." He was in Karkaroff's office with him, holding his hands firmly under his own. "Whose man are you, Igor Karkaroff?"

"Yours, My Lord. Always Yours. Only Yours." He sank to his knees in reverence and Gellert had to bite back a snide sexual comment because that was really not how you played for keeps.

"Mine." He agreed. "Now. Answer the call."

Igor Karkaroff bit back a sob and did as he was bid.

*

He had let the scene from his vision play out nearly exactly. He had no need or desire to keep the elder Crouch alive, so he simply did not.

It wouldn't do to be seen at the scene of the crime, but he let Albus see him at the very least. Gave him a knowing look. I'm playing now. Its real now.

And Albus gave him a look back like this was just the greatest thing he had never heard from him.

*

Karkaroff came back to him to tell him the plan. At least whatever Voldemort had deigned to tell him of it. Crouch, the younger that was, would send Potter to him at the end of the third task.

"Send him to him where?"

"A muggle village. Little Hangleton. That's where he's at... What are you... going to do?"

Gellert smiled sweetly. "Are you my agent or his?"

"Yours. Of course, My Lord."

"Then why do you ask?"

"I... Forgive me, My Lord. I do not mean to be... impertinent. I will do only what you ask of me. Nothing more."

"Can you speak to Crouch?"

"He thinks I am disloyal. I avoided imprisonment."

"Really? I don't see him in Azkaban. Go to him. Threaten him. Sweeten to him. I do not care. Bring me any information you can gather."

*

Any information he could gather turned out to be a lot of information. 

"A portkey, you say?"

"He wants to transport Potter to the Little Hangleton graveyard to perform... Some sort of resurrection spell? I'm not... too sure... What that entails..."

"Its fine. Take me to the cup."

"Yes My Lord."

*

It turned out the only thing more depressing than Little Hangleton was the Little Hangleton graveyard. But there they were, preparing for there little ritual. This dark lord looked even worse than he did, which he had to admit he did take pleasure in. His servant was doing most of the busywork but he stopped abruptly when he noticed his arrival. Standing with his cloak pulled down around his shoulders and not a drop of transfiguration on him, waving the triwizard cup in mocking triumph.

"Expecting someone else were you?"

The man who was not Voldemort squeaked in a rather undignified way which was odd. "Master... I believe there may have been a... slight complication at Hogwarts." He said to the presumably human creature ordering him around.

"Kill him!" The thing rasped out. He rolled his eyes slightly. To say that was not going to happen would be an understatement.

Gellert drew his wand, slowly. "Listen, I don't really like killing former students, so if you just want to scurry along there... You are woefully outmatched here."

He certainly seemed like he wanted to, looking back and forth between him and his own master. Unfortunately his fear of Voldemort outweighed his fear of Grindelwald.

That was a mistake. But he considered himself a good teacher. This was a good time for a lesson.

*

"Now what to do with you?" He looked down at the not-resurrected Voldemort. "I can't kill you. Unfortunately. Ugh am I going to have to work with Albus on this one? No way, I am not going to do that... This is all mine."

"So. Dementor's kiss? Would that even work? Could lock you in a vat of American pensieve water. Might be fun to see what happens. Well I could always-- Oh! Oh that is too good. That is too, too good."

"What are you going to do? You know you can't kill me."

Gellert hit him with a transfiguration spell. "You know. I've changed my mind. I don't want to kill you. You are... ever so useful." It was like looking into a mirror.

"You've just turned me into you! How does that--"

Albus chose that moment to show up. He always did have perfect timing.

"Oh Albus, you always do have perfect timing..." 

Albus took in the scene around him and smiled, in a manner no one would be able to mistake for kindly. "We had to postpone the third task due to your... machinations..."

"I'll make it up to you."

"Yes you will." Albus moved on, grabbing his fruitful imposter and disapparating.

He sure hoped the little fucker liked Nurmengard.


End file.
